He took a couple steps back and sank down on the couch, staring at his phone like he was willing it to send the message. Then he noticed he didn’t have any service, and he groaned.
“Shit!”
The cell reception this far out in the woods wasn’t great, but he usually had one bar or two at least.
“It’s gotta be the damn snow,” he muttered with a sigh. His fingers found their way to his beard, tugging so hard, he winced.
He was disillusioned with himself for how he’d acted after the knife incident, wishing he’d stood his ground and insisted on disciplining the student. That he’d refused the damn money that sat in his bank account, filling him with anxiety.
But most of all, he was afraid Mick would look at him one day and despise him for his choices. That even his practical and realistic partner would think Elliot made the wrong decision.